Finding friends in unexpected places (like during a bank robbery)
by mahlia
Summary: Jason Todd goes to the bank to finalize the loan for his new house, but his day doesn't go as planned. Though he doesn't get a chance to sign the paperwork, he saves a life and makes a new friend. And he learns something about Bruce Wayne that most people don't know. The man isn't as naive as he seems, and he can disassemble a gun faster than Jason thought possible. (No Capes AU)


Day 3 of BatFam Week 2020. Prompt: Injuries | Bonding During A Mission | No Capes/Civilian AU

Someone gets shot, but it's not gory, graphic or deadly.

FYI: I've long had a headcanon that in a universe where Jason is a civilian, he went to med school and is an ER doctor. He also has a ton of tattoos.

* * *

It was just past one-thirty on a Tuesday, and Gotham First National Bank was finishing up its lunch-hour rush. Customers hurried from the lobby out into the rainy afternoon, back to their nine-to-fives. There was nothing wrong with that kind of life, but to Jason Todd, being trapped behind a desk was akin to torture. Give him a double shift in the emergency room at Gotham General any day.

He sat in a comfortable high-backed chair outside the office of the loan officer he was scheduled to meet at one forty-five. In his lap, he held a folder full of paperwork, signed and notarized, along with tax documents and a few personal references. This was the final step in the process of owning his own home- finalizing the loan. Saying he was excited would be an understatement.

The loan officer, a young woman named Mallory, got up from her desk and escorted her current appointment to her office door. When the man turned around, Jason recognized him. Even if he hadn't been the popular billionaire everyone seemed to know or have a story about meeting him, Bruce Wayne was an imposing figure. He was roughly the same height as Jason, about six-foot-two, and his expertly-tailored suit hid the enormous amount of muscle beneath it. He'd heard rumors about the guy's intense workouts, but hadn't taken them seriously. According to many, he was just a good-looking rich guy who enjoyed galas and dated the occasional model.

But Jason felt a small twinge of smug satisfaction, knowing he had something Bruce didn't. From the look of it, it was about twenty pounds of muscle. Mallory opened the door and followed Bruce out into the lobby area.

"Thank you for coming, Mister Wayne. I'll have our notary take care of these and get them back to you by noon tomorrow."

Bruce held out his hand and Mallory shook it, an easy-going smile on his face.

"I really appreciate it, Miss Winters. Thank you for your time."

He turned to leave, but changed course and sat down in the chair to Jason's right for a moment, pulling out his phone with a frown. Jason paid him no mind, looking to Mallory with a grin. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she pointed down the hall with her thumb.

"Doctor Todd, it's great to see you! I'm just going to get a cup of coffee before we get started. Would you like one?"

Jason nodded and felt Bruce look at him.

"Yes, please. One cream, no sugar."

"Excellent. I'll be right back!"

Mallory disappeared and he flipped through his paperwork, checking for the third time that day he had everything in order.

"Doctor Todd?"

Jason glanced up at him.

"How can I help you, Mister Wayne?"

Bruce shook his head and pretended to wince.

"Please, call me Bruce. My father was Mister Wayne." He tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and leaned back, casually crossing an ankle over the opposite knee.

"Are you the same Doctor Todd who helped open the new twenty-four hour urgent care clinic in the Bowery last year?"

Jason grinned proudly.

"One in the same. I still put in one or two shifts a week at that clinic, usually on my days off from the hospital."

Bruce's eyes widened and he nodded appreciatively.

"Don't the hours get long?"

Jason shrugged and glanced across the lobby toward the door, frowning at the three nervous men who had just entered the bank.

"Nah, I don't mind the hours. I love what I do, and most of the time, it doesn't feel like work."

Bruce noticed Jason's concerned expression and shifted in his chair in time to see the three men pull shotguns out the of bag on the floor. He looked at Jason, then back at Mallory, who reappeared behind them, two cups of coffee in her hands.

Jason turned and caught her gaze, jerking his head in the direction of the break room.

"If there's a back entrance, I suggest you take it. Get out, call the cops, tell them there are three men armed with shotguns."

Mallory nodded, slowly backing away, so as not to draw attention to herself. Jason turned to Bruce, once again gesturing behind them.

"I suggest you follow her, Bruce. The more people who get out, the better."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "If they want a hostage, who better than the guy with billions to his name?"

Jason was about to call him a self-centered asshole when Bruce continued.

"Better me than someone with a family," he said, and Jason noticed the sadness in his voice. "Besides, they're less likely to shoot their meal ticket, right?"

Jason stood slowly and raised his hands, Bruce doing the same, as one of the men approached them, his gun leveled at their chests.

"This way, gentlemen. Don't try and do anything stupid, and you'll get out of here alive."

They made their way to the middle of the expansive lobby, joining eight other customers and five bank employees. The man jabbed the barrel of the shotgun into the middle of Jason's back, sending him stumbling forward.

"On your knees. Hands stay on your head."

He and Bruce did what they were told, and the guy backed off, heading over to talk to the other two. Bruce waited until he was out of earshot.

"Any of you manage to call the police?"

One of the tellers and two customers nodded.

"Good. Have they said what they're after?"

Another employee, a loan officer who worked with Mallory, spoke up.

"They said something about a couple of safe deposit boxes, but I couldn't hear anything else."

"HEY!"

Everyone flinched, cowering lower to the floor, their hands still on their heads. The man came back, using the butt of his gun to hit Bruce's left shoulder. He fell face first toward the floor before easily catching himself with both hands.

"What did I say about talking, huh? Shut your mouths, or I'll do it for you."

Several of the hostages whimpered, keeping their eyes down. One woman failed to stifle a sob and the noise echoed loudly through the bank. The robber stepped up behind her, grabbing her hair, and jerked her head back with a vicious grin.

"What's the matter, darlin', you scared?"

Jason opened his mouth to tell the guy to leave her alone when Bruce beat him to it.

"Leave her alone, will you? She's frightened. We all are."

He let her go and waded through the other hostages, aiming his shotgun at Bruce's face.

"Oh yeah? You don't look scared to me, man."

Jason watched in utter fascination as Bruce looked down the barrel of the gun, then up at the robber. He was as calm as he had been before the robbery began. Most people, himself included, would be petrified at the sight of a gun in their face, but Bruce paid it no mind. Either he was a phenomenal actor, or he genuinely wasn't scared. Either way, Jason was impressed.

"This isn't my first time being held at gunpoint. Why don't we chat for a minute? Tell me what you want. Maybe I can help."

The robber scoffed and lowered the gun several inches. Jason sighed in relief, but it was short-lived.

"How could you possibly help?"

Before Jason could stop him, Bruce started talking again.

"You don't recognize Bruce Wayne?"

Jason closed his eyes and bit his tongue to stop himself from making things worse.

The robber's eyes lit up and he turned to signal the other two, who were now back behind the counter in the safe deposit box room with the bank manager. Bruce took the opening he created and stood, reaching for the gun. He got both hands on the barrel and the robber turned. Jason saw his chance and charged, rugby-tackling the robber to the floor. In a matter of seconds, Bruce disassembled the gun, tossing the parts behind him and the ammo somewhere off to his left.

Jason punched the robber twice and knocked him out. He sensed movement behind the counter as Bruce turned to the other hostages.

"Everybody, make for the side exit over that way—"

"Bruce! GET DOWN!"

Two shots rang out and the hostages all ran, making it to the door and getting out safely. Beside him, Bruce fell to the floor. Jason looked over and saw a dark stain blossoming over Bruce's chest, turning his grey shirt red. He ignored the two remaining robbers yelling at each other in the background.

"Bruce? Can you hear me?"

Bruce nodded weakly, the surprise wearing off as he looked down at his chest.

"Good. I need to see if you've been shot anywhere else."

He loosened Bruce's tie and opened his jacket, seeing only the chest wound at first. When he opened it further and looked under Bruce's arm, there was a second wound along his side. As it appeared to be a superficial graze, he shifted his focus back to Bruce's chest.

"How bad?" Bruce studied Jason's face carefully.

Jason ripped open Bruce's shirt so he could see the entire wound, feeling around the hole with his fingers.

"Not sure yet. I need you to roll over to see if there's an exit wound, okay?"

Bruce nodded and rolled away from Jason to give him a chance to feel around. There was no exit wound, which was both a good thing and a bad thing.

"The good news is the bullet didn't go through you. The bad news is that it's still in your chest somewhere, and you're bleeding quite a bit."

Jason stripped down to his white t-shirt, tearing his dress shirt into smaller pieces for makeshift bandages. As he did so, he smiled at Bruce and watched him carefully. In turn, Bruce studied the colorful sleeve of tattoos covering Jason's right arm. He was about to ask about them when Jason directed his attention to the situation at hand.

"Hang in there, Wayne. Try and control your breathing. It'll help slow your heartrate a little. You're gonna be fine."

Jason pressed down on the bandage, forcing a pained chuckle from Bruce.

"I'll hold you to that, Doctor."

"Jason."

"What?"

"My friends call me Jason."

Bruce coughed, the sound immediately putting Jason on edge.

"We're friends?" Bruce wheezed.

Jason probed around Bruce's torso, noticing some swelling and discoloration. He was bleeding internally, which was likely making it hard for him to breathe. He needed a chest tube, and fast.

"I suppose so," Jason mused. He looked around the bank for anything to improvise with, but found nothing and cursed their luck. He looked down at Bruce again with a grin. "Anytime people go through a traumatic experience, they tend to bond pretty quickly."

He checked Bruce's pulse and respiration, concealing his alarm at how elevated they were.

"Hey, Bruce?"

Bruce shifted his focus from the activity behind the counter up to Jason.

"Hmm?"

"You need to try and slow your breathing down. Your heartrate is high, and it's pumping more blood into your chest and abdominal cavities. I'd drain it for you, but I don't have a chest tube tray handy."

Bruce coughed again and tried to slow his breathing.

"Why were you here today?" he asked, trying to distract himself. Jason added another scrap of his shirt to the growing pile of bandages over Bruce's chest.

"I was gonna finalize the loan and down payment for my first house."

Bruce nodded in approval.

"That's great. Congratulations."

"You'll have to come check it out- it's pretty cool. It's in lower Gotham, not far from the hospital. Two-story, three-bedroom with a finished basement, lots of windows and built-in bookshelves. I'm gonna turn that room into a library."

Flashing lights appeared out front, both the GCPD and several ambulances arriving on scene. Through the side exit the other hostages went through, Jason saw the SWAT van pull up and the team head toward the back. He looked down at Bruce again and his glassy stare sent him into emergency mode.

"Bruce? Hey, Bruce! Focus on me, old man."

He blinked and glared owlishly at Jason.

"Forty-three isn't old."

Jason barked a relieved laugh, dropping his head and closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Bruce was watching him closely. Jason grinned.

"No, it's not. But it's older than thirty-two." He heard the sounds of the back entrance being breached and the EMT's out front were at the door with a stretcher, waiting for their cue to enter. Jason held up two fingers and indicated on his own torso where Bruce had been shot. One of the EMT's returned to the ambulance to grab something.

"Jason?"

He looked down at Bruce.

"Yeah?"

"I owe you a new shirt."

Jason laughed as the EMT's charged through the front door. He stepped back to let them do their thing, crouching near Bruce's head. Reaching down to squeeze his shoulder, he met Bruce's gaze once more.

"Tell you what, you get through this? I'll hold you to that."

* * *

Two weeks later Jason unloaded the final box from the back of the moving truck. He'd taken the entire week off to allow himself time to move all his stuff from his apartment and immediately find a place for it in the house. He lived amongst stacks of boxes over the last month; the last thing he wanted was to continue doing that in the house.

He brought it inside to set it in the kitchen next to the stove. There were only about a dozen boxes left to unpack and since the truck didn't have to go back until tomorrow morning, he had time to take a break. He was about to grab a beer from the fridge when his doorbell rang. With a sigh, he put it back and headed toward the front door.

There were large windows on both sides of the door and before opening it, Jason peered out onto the porch and laughed. He opened the door to see Bruce standing there with a flat, rectangular box in his hand. He held it out to Jason, who took it and stepped to the side, ushering Bruce in.

"I keep my promises- here's the shirt I owe you."

Jason shook his head and gestured for Bruce to follow him into the kitchen.

"You really didn't have to, but thank you."

Bruce looked around, admiring the high ceilings and the intricate woodwork.

"Is this all original?"

Jason nodded and leaned against the counter, setting the box aside.

"Yeah. The previous owner was a carpenter and restored all the hardwood floors. He kept all the original woodwork and molding, too."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks."

Jason studied him, remembering in vivid detail how close he'd been to bleeding out on the floor of the bank.

"How are you feeling? How's the recovery going?"

Bruce shrugged.

"They discharged me about five days after the robbery. The surgery to repair my pulmonary artery went well, but the recovery has been… painful."

Jason nodded sympathetically.

"Any time they have to open your chest like that, you'll be sore for a while. But I'm glad you're okay."

Bruce pulled the collar of his shirt down, until the edge of a bandage peeked from beneath it. He brushed his fingers over it.

"In large part to you. I never got to thank you."

Jason shook his head and reached into the fridge, grabbing a beer and a bottle of sparkling water. He tossed the water to Bruce.

"No need- it's what I do. And I'm glad I was there to help."

He held his bottle up and Bruce did the same.

"Come on- let's go sit out front. It's too nice an evening to be inside."

Bruce followed him back down the hall to the front door, where they took a seat on the top step. Jason leaned back against the railing and took a long sip of his beer. Bruce watched him, sighing at his bottle of water, before doing the same. Jason grinned.

"Pain medication and alcohol don't mix."

"Yeah, I know."

They had a view of the bluffs across the river and Jason heaved a contented sigh before turning back toward Bruce.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about the "anonymous" help I had with my loan, would you?"

Bruce continued staring out into the street. Nothing in his face or body language gave him away, and he looked at Jason with a curious frown.

"No, why?"

Jason raised an eyebrow and waited, but Bruce continued to pretend he had no idea.

"Because about a week ago, Mallory called to tell me someone had made my down payment for me, and secured an interest rate I never would have qualified for on my own. It saved me _thousands_ of dollars."

Bruce's shocked expression would have fooled ninety-nine percent of people, but somehow, Jason saw right through it. But he didn't call him out on it- he didn't want to give the impression he wasn't immensely grateful. When Jason didn't say anything, Bruce continued.

"That's really something. I imagine whoever did it wanted to show their appreciation for what you do for this city." He took another long sip of his water before he looked at Jason again. "What you do matters, and people like you deserve to have some good luck once in a while."

"Well, thank you. It's really made a difference." He tipped his bottle toward Bruce's, and Bruce returned the gesture.

"Not sure why you're thanking me, but cheers."

They sat in companionable silence for a while and watched the sun begin to set. As the shadows lengthened, Bruce stood and took one last look at the house.

"I should leave you to it."

Jason climbed to his feet and headed into the house.

"You don't have to. I was gonna order a pizza. Stick around, and I'll give you a tour."

Bruce eyed him warily, remaining on the steps.

"As long as I'm not imposing."

Jason snorted softly and rolled his eyes.

"Lose the manners, Mister Wayne. Friends drop by unannounced all the time. Now get in here before the mosquitoes do."

Bruce followed him into the house. Jason shut the door behind him and led him into the living room.

"Hey, quick question. How did you find the place? I never said what the address was."

Bruce laughed and he couldn't hide his embarrassment.

"At the bank, you said it was in lower Gotham, not far from the hospital, and that it was two-story, three-bedroom with a finished basement, lots of windows and built-in bookshelves. That made it pretty easy to find online, as real estate listings are public." He stared down at his hands and hung his head sheepishly. "And I've had a lot of downtime lately."

Jason threw his head back and laughed.

"Touché. Now, a true test of friendship. What kind of pizza do you like? If you say something like pineapple belongs on pizza, I'm cancelling our friendship."

"Ugh, no. Supreme is the best, but without the olives."

"Done." Jason brought up the app on his phone and put their order in. Once he was finished, he studied Bruce once more, gathering the nerve to ask the one question that had been on his mind since the robbery.

"Something on your mind?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. Where the hell did you learn how to disassemble a gun like that?"

Bruce smirked and glanced at Jason's arms, the colorful ink on full display since he was wearing short sleeves.

"I'll tell you, but only if you tell me about all of those."

"Deal. But you first, old man."

Jason got up to go get another beer for himself, and another sparkling water for Bruce. Bruce sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes in exasperation.

"Oh, for the last time, I'm not… you know what? It's not worth it."

* * *

A/N: I fudged the age gap because I felt like it, so just roll with it.


End file.
